Pieces of Fate
by OriginalAlcy
Summary: A series of randomly connected one shots looking at the lives of the crew of the SSV Normandy in the years and decades prior to becoming the heroes we know. Background musings derived from the Catalyst of Fate universe.
1. Stink Breath and Tofu Casserole

**A/N:** The summary pretty much sums up the premise, but I'll elaborate: I always liked the idea of writing a background fic but I know I'll never find the time or the energy. Instead I've settled on little 'pieces' of the lives of the cast of characters of my _Fate_ series. This way I can abandon all pretence at chronological sequence or flow and concentrate on doing character studies.

I'm going to shift between tenses, tone, and characters. I'll keep the rating at 'M' because there will likely be bad language throughout. There may even be occasional fluff (gasp!). There will be no set posting schedule but expect to encounter Shepard, Liara, Ashley, Miranda, Sam, and possibly others. If anyone has a suggestion for a 'piece' that fits within established Fate canon – perhaps a brief mention of something in CoF, AoF or No Impact that you'd like to see explored – drop me a PM and I might give it a go :-)

* * *

**Chapter One**  
**Stink Breath and Tofu Casserole**

**11 April 2167**

_Meet me in the bathroom at 1230 – second stall from the end. MF _

She needs to read the message four times before it finally sinks in. The datapad is actually trembling in her hand when she sets it down on her desk. While she isn't sure if she should risk it, Evan Shepard cannot help but look up and search out the red-haired student amongst the line in front of her. Almost at that precise moment, the head turns and Megan French is smiling at her. It's fleeting, but it's enough to almost knock Evan off her chair. Her pulse races in ways that are usually reserved for the track. 1230 cannot come fast enough.

At the front of the class, Ms Soanes is saying something. It's too late that Evan realises her words at directed at the back of the classroom – at her.

"Evangeline-"

_Evan! It's Evan._ All her other teachers use Evan. She doesn't understand why Ms Soanes has to persist with using that horrendous name. That brand of torture is reserved for her mother.

"What was the name of the consortium that funded the settlement of Demeter in 2152?"

_2152? Who the hell cares?_ It's before Evan's birth and therefore has absolutely no relevance to her life. When Ms Soanes talks about a war or a battle, she pays attention. Otherwise it's just white noise. Besides, she's meeting Megan French in the bathroom at 1230. "I don't…" Her voice trails off as she realises that the prospect of detention in the lunch hour could ruin everything. _Think, Ev…you've done the reading._

"Delta Pavonis!"

Some arsehole pipes up next to her while her mind is still trying to work. It's Giles Hilton – consummate teacher's pet. Evan pictures launching herself across the desks and pummelling the little twat.

Giles looks smug as he continues, "Delta Pavonis founded the settlement of Demeter in 2152 - humanity's first extra-solar colony world. They also founded Eden Prime and…um…" His voice trails off, the last piece of information suddenly beyond his grasp.

_Terra Nova._ Evan did the reading last night, she remembers. "Terra Nova," she pipes up. She does her best to sound clever, as though she knew the answer all along. _I would have known_, she thought, enjoying the expression on the face of the boy across the aisle. _If smarty-pants Giles had given me a chance_.

"Thank you, Evangeline." Ms Soanes appears convinced for the time being. "Next time don't speak out of turn, Giles."

The rebuke is given in a temperate manner. Evan instinctively knows the part the teacher had to leave unsaid – 'give the slower students a chance.' Rather than feel patronised, Evan feels a sense of satisfaction in knowing that she will laugh the next time she breezes past Giles Hilton on the track.

A buzzer sounds. 1230 suddenly arrives and nothing that happens inside the classroom matters anymore.

Nervous beyond belief, Evan waits until the crush of students exiting the class dies down. While everyone else heads towards the cafeteria, she discreetly slips into the girl's bathroom. It's empty. When she knocks on the second stall from the end, there's a slight rustling sound behind it.

"Evan?"

"Yeah." Her throat is dry. _Oh no, does my breath stink?_

There isn't time to find out as the door opens and red haired Megan French grabs her by her shirt and pulls her inside. Although Evan has used these toilets countless times, she's never realised how small the stalls are. Megan is practically standing on her toes and she catches a whiff of a fragrant scent. It's nice. Evan doesn't wear perfume and she's still terrified that her breath stinks.

"Um, what do I do?" The question is stupid but it's all she can think to say_. I should have complimented her!_ Evan feels like hitting herself over the head. Compliments are redundant when it comes to Megan French. She's bubbly, pretty, and popular – everything Evan isn't.

Megan smiles. She ignores the question. "I never realised, but you have really nice eyes."

"Um...thanks." Trembling slightly, her own smile is probably more of a grimace.

Unguarded, Evan is unprepared for the moment when Megan French is no longer simply standing toe to toe with her. She's close and then she's kissing her. Or at least Evan thinks that's what they're doing. Their lips are pressed together - it's wet, awkward and slightly messy. She still doesn't know what to do so she just stands there with her hands down by her sides, letting Megan do whatever she wants. Megan's eyes are closed so she follows suit. When her lips part slightly, Evan mimics the movement. It's still awkward, but beginning to feel nice. Experimentation tells her that it's best to keep her head tilted to one side so their noses don't get in the way.

Megan's lips are suddenly no longer there. Her eyes open and she finds Megan staring at her with a thoughtful expression on her face. At first Evan thinks the other girl is just taking a breath. The interruption is annoying, but she forces herself to remain patient. Her foot taps out a rhythm on the tiles at her feet, counting down the appropriate number of seconds until she can reinitiate the kiss. How long should she give her? Ten seconds? A minute? Evan decides that ten seconds is enough. The remaining taps are counted out, hastening toward the end as the anticipation becomes almost painful. This time around her hesitation is gone and she makes the move to grasp Megan's waist and draw their bodies together. A slight gasp of surprise escapes Megan's lips in the split second before Evan resumes the kiss with a desperate intensity. She knows that her efforts have improved since those first embarrassing moments and pride creeps into her chest as she decides that kissing is easy – not to mention exceedingly fun.

Evan loses all track of time. A minute could have passed, maybe more. Regardless, it's not enough. When she feels Megan place a hand on her chest to push her away, she is reluctant. There's a firm push and it's over for the second time. There's only one question on her mind, whether Megan will allow her a third kiss. She wants it badly enough. Perhaps she ought to press one hand up against the light swell of Megan's breast? This intriguing new prospect causes her stomach to flutter in interesting ways.

"Shit, Evan, anyone would think that you're actually into girls," Megan eventually says.

_I'm not supposed to be into girls?_ Confusion floods her mind, completely shattering the fledgling confidence she felt just a moment ago. Megan's accusatory stare causes her to feel embarrassed at the way her breath comes in thick, heated gasps. She turns her head to one side but maintains a view of Megan out of the corner of her eye in an attempt to interpret the other girl's reaction.

"You know, that wasn't bad for your first time," Megan muses with a slight grin. She's completely unaware of the effect her smile has on Evan. "A little tip - don't be so enthusiastic when you kiss a guy. You need to tone it down or they'll start getting ideas about how far they can go. You don't want to be known as _that _girl."

The advice sounds oddly programmed. It has obviously come from her father. Although Evan doesn't have one of those to offer her advice, she has absolutely no desire to be known as _that_ girl and even less desire to be enthusiastic about kissing boys. She's still struggling to process the news that she can't spend the rest of her life kissing girls. Suddenly kissing no longer seems so exceedingly fun.

Megan looks suddenly impatient – as though she has somewhere better to be. "We shouldn't be seen leaving together," she informs Evan sagely. "I'll go first. You wait five minutes."

Evan tucks her body against the side of the side of the stall as Megan prepares to open the door. The thought of possibly having one last kiss is ruined by the revelation that enjoyment was never the object of their dalliance. Megan doesn't say anything as she slinks out of their shared space. After watching her leave, Evan stands aimlessly in the middle of the stall and allows her brow to develop a deep furrow.

A quick glance at her chrono confirms that less than a minute has passed but she is impatient and feeling slightly claustrophobic. No one else is in the bathroom when she emerges. Evan doesn't normally waste time staring in mirrors but she wants to see if something has changed. She feels different. Her reflection stares back at her – the same scraggly dark hair frames her face and pale blue eyes. Her lips are swollen – that's different. When she touches them they tingle slightly and she asks herself if others will be able to notice.

The bathroom door flies open and a trio of senior students file in, all laughing merrily. They cast only cursory glances toward Evan before ignoring her as if she doesn't exist. With her fingers still pressed to her lips, she flees from the scene before they notice and start laughing at her.

There is already too much information in Evan's head waiting to be processed without filling it up with the afternoon's lessons. It's relatively easy to escape the school unnoticed. She's already had a lot of practice. No one outside of school cares that she isn't there. They're all too busy with real lives of their own, lives that actually mean something more than endless repetitive lessons.

Compared to school, the main flight deck is a veritable hive of excitement. A thrill of a different kind takes residence in her stomach. Evan likes this thrill better; it's not nearly as confusing as the other. Best of all, Megan French and her damnably kissable lips aren't there.

It isn't hard to find her friend, Bea Brooks. The Specialist is on her back beneath the wing of a fighter. Only her boots are visible but Evan would recognise that voice and that string of expletives anywhere.

"Get in there you fucking piece of shit…fuck!" Bea sounds pissed. Unlike other adults, Bea isn't shy about expressing her emotions. "Gordy…tell me you're there, you bastard?"

Evan glances around. Gordy's not there. She's wondering whether she should make a discreet exit before those expletives are directed at her. While she hopes that Bea doesn't care whether or not she is in school, she doesn't want to chance her informing her Mum.

"Hand me the number two driver will ya?"

It's not hard to find the requested tool in Bea's immaculately laid out toolkit. Evan selects the slender device and places it in Bea's outstretched hand – feeling infinitely more useful already. Idly she wonders whether thirteen is too early to leave school and get a real job. _Almost thirteen, Ev,_ she reminds herself. Bea says 'fuck' a lot. Evan has already decided that thirteen is a good age to start using it herself – not around her mother or at school, but she can easily think it without getting into trouble.

"So…saw you and Riggs getting all up in each other's business the other night. If you don't fuck that one up you're onto a winner with that girl." Bea chats contently as she works. "Spill the details, mate. I've gotta get some vicarious fucking. My love life is drier than a nun's cunt at the moment."

Evan has absolutely no idea what that last part means…or any of it really. However Bea sounds exceptionally knowledgeable about such matters.

"Bea? Is it alright if a girl enjoys kissing another girl…instead of a boy I mean."

A loud crash follows a split second later. "Fu-" The curse is cut short rather abruptly and Bea slides out from beneath the fighter with a strange expression on her face. "Shepard Junior…hi. Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

The Specialist stands awkwardly, wiping her dirty hands on her pants. Although old (Evan isn't sure how old exactly, but she thinks Bea is as old as her Mum…which _is_ old), Bea isn't much taller than her but she's stocky and muscular. Evan is as skinny as a weed with barely any meat on her bones. Bea keeps her hair cropped close to her head and there always seems to be a grin on her face. Most of the other technies tolerate Evan's annoying questions for short periods of time, but Bea actually seems to enjoy her company.

"Supposed to." Evan shrugs, hoping that if she looks nonchalant about it then Bea won't care either. "Can I hang out here with you?"

"Tell ya what, kiddo. You don't mention any of this to your Mum – not the stuff I was talking about before or letting you hang out – and I'll let you stay for a while at least."

"Deal." Evan is pleased. Blackmail had not even crossed her mind but now Bea has helpfully planted the idea. She is smart enough to know that it will be very useful.

"And I think you had better ask your Mum about such things – kissing and shi…I mean stuff," Bea continues.

Unimpressed, Evan purses her lips and shakes her head. "I can't talk to my Mum!" The thought leaves her feeling slightly sick to her stomach. "You're old, you must know these things!"

"Gee, thanks!" Bea replies, running her hands through her close cropped hair. "Trust me, talk to Shepard Senior, I'm not the right person to give you advice on that sort of thing. Tell you what, you stop bugging me about all of that and I'll teach you the best way to upgrade the cannons on one of these babies."

"Can I sit in the cockpit?" Evan flashes a grin. Bea's in a good mood, it's definitely worth a shot.

Bea sighs and Evan immediately knows that she has won this battle. "Sure thing."

* * *

Jubilant is the perfect word to describe Evan's mood when she arrives home later that afternoon. Spending the afternoon with Bea was miles better than being stuck in school. While she hasn't managed to forget about Megan French, she does feel better about life in general. With Bea's parting words being 'kiss whoever you want, kiddo,' Evan suspects that Megan might be full of bullshit.

Home – or the tiny, boxy suite of rooms she shares with her Mum - is empty and dark. Usually it's to be expected but today is different. There's no evidence of her Mum beyond a note written on the electronic board on the fridge. It's where they do most of their communicating.

_Evangeline, the school contacted me to say you weren't in class this afternoon. I don't need to tell you how disappointed I am. There's a meal in the fridge. I won't be home until 2000 hrs so I expect you to have completed your homework and be prepared for lights out. I've locked out the wallscreen and the extranet. Mother. _

The 'meal' is an uninspiring box that needs to be 'waved.' Upon seeing that it is Tofu casserole - something she loathes - Evan knows that she has every right to feel angry. Instead she feels the annoying sting of tears. Her afternoon with Bea already feels like a distant dream as she slams the box into the machine. Several moments later it beeps insistently to tell her that her box of utter crap is ready to eat.

Evan dumps it on the table and sits. The wrapper burns her fingers as she peels it off and the smell assaults her nostrils. She's no longer hungry now that she can see the contents clearly.

"Happy thirteenth birthday, Ev," she mutters to herself.


	2. One Hell of a Storm

**Chapter Two  
One Hell of a Storm**

**The twenty-first day of the 7th cycle, 2100**

Even at the tender age of twenty-three, Liara T'Soni knew that hiding under her bed was an ineffective tactic to escape the seemingly omniscient gaze of her mother. However with her bed covers pulled down over the sides to block out the daylight, she had created an inviting hidey-hole. Ensconced in the darkness, Liara folded her body into a tight ball and attempted to keep her breaths as quiet as possible so her mother would not know she was there. It was cool, quiet and sometimes she could even imagine that she had escaped into another world. One day she would peer out of the covers and she would no longer be on the T'Soni estate, but somewhere exotic and far away – maybe Tuchanka with the Krogan.

It was a futile hope at best. Between the time she heard the first footsteps in her room and the covers being drawn aside from her den, only mere seconds passed. As the light flooded beneath the bed, Liara scrunched up her face and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter in an effort to ignore the figure standing beside the bed.

"Liara!"

Liara's eyes darted open when she realised it was not her mother. She peered at the familiar shape hunkered down next to the bed and knew that her mother would never prostrate herself in such a manner. It was Shiala – the youngest and kindest commando in her mother's private bodyguard. Even so, she could not bring herself to emerge from the safe space beneath her bed. Especially not when she remembered what she was supposed to be doing that afternoon.

"Go away, Shiala!" Liara whispered. "I am hiding."

"I know you're hiding, Ekebi," Shiala replied patiently, referring to a tiny mammal notorious for burrowing holes in the gardens of Thessia's elite. "You're also doing a terrible job of it. I have a proposition for you."

Liara did her best to feign disinterest, but eventually her curiosity overcame her resolve. "Tell me."

"You come out of there, behave yourself all afternoon, and I'll teach you how to hide properly – just like a real commando," Shiala promised. "No one can find a commando, not even an asari Matriarch."

"What about other commandos?" Liara was not entirely convinced. "_She_ always sends you to look for me. You cannot teach me to hide from you. That makes no sense."

"I'll give you the skills. How you use them is entirely up to you," the commando explained. "What d'ya say? Are you coming out or do I have to lift the bed off you?"

Shiala waited patiently for almost a minute before she heard an almost imperceptible shuffling. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously when she realised that Liara had wriggled out on the other side of the bed with the intention of trying to sneak up on her. She feigned complete unawareness as she continued staring into the darkness under the bed. Then, as she sensed small fingers reaching for her, she whirled around and wrapped Liara up in a strong pair of arms. The child squealed with delight as she was whirled around several times.

"What is the meaning of this?" A cold voice sliced through the jubilant atmosphere like a knife. Shiala quickly set Liara down on her own two feet and turned to regard the stern visage of Benezia T'Soni standing in the doorway. "I requested that you fetch my daughter immediately. Did you find some aspect of that request difficult to interpret, Shiala?"

"No, Mistress T'Soni. I did not," Shiala replied, lowering her head in deference. "My apologies."

When her mother ordered the commando to leave them, Liara felt like stamping her foot in protest. However when Shiala turned to look over her shoulder, she flashed Liara a quick wink. Liara knew better than to grin in response, but she did tilt her chin a little higher as Benezia swooped down on her.

"The Syros's arrival is imminent and you are crawling around in the dust?" Benezia scolded. "Look at your dress!"

Liara glanced down, aside from a few creases, her dress was still perfect. She wanted to point out that the staff of the T'Soni estate knew better than to let dust accumulate anywhere, even under beds, but she thought better of it. Perhaps her mother could see things that she could not? It certainly felt that way as she withdrew a delicate handkerchief of finest silk and began scrubbing intently at her cheek.

"I have tried scrubbing them off," Liara protested. "They are always there."

"By the Goddess, what are you talking about now?" Benezia demanded. Her eyes widened slightly when Liara scrubbed both her hands against her cheeks. At that moment he demeanour softened slightly. "Your markings? Oh, Little Wing, those are not meant to come off. They are a part of who you are, what makes you unique and beautiful."

"I am not beautiful," her daughter scoffed in reply. The other children at school never missed an opportunity to remind her of the fact. She suddenly felt slightly emboldened. "And I do not want to meet the Syros's. Dasia and Gioura are both older than me."

"Only by a few years," Benezia replied, her patience wearing thin. "They are both extremely well brought-up young asari. You will do very well to spend more time with them. Now come along and cease this childishness."

Although Dasia and Gioura were two and four years older than Liara respectively, the young asari felt as though they may have been adult maidens for the differences between them. The two Syros children carried themselves with an elegance that Liara could only envy and not hope to imitate. As their mothers and senior household retainers retired to the parlour to discuss grown-up matters, the three children were left to their own devices in the garden. As always, they were watched over from afar by a pair of commandos. However, well within the boundaries of the T'Soni estate, they kept a respectful distance.

Usually Liara appreciated the immaculately manicured grounds beyond the house. She had many fond memories of scrambling up the boughs of the Lomir trees and digging in the dirt beneath Shiala's watchful gaze. The mud-stained, ripped clothes were very quickly bundled off to be cleaned and mended before her mother could discover what she had been up to. However when she suggested climbing trees or digging in the dirt, both sisters regarded her with matching expressions of disdain. They remained seated primly on one of the stone benches that ringed the largest and most impressive water feature on the estate. Both children wore bored expressions - Dasia's only mildly so while her sister was blatantly obvious.

"Don't you have a V.I that can play games with us?" Dasia asked expectantly.

Liara shook her head. "Mother doesn't approve of them. She says that they-"

"Your mother is so old-fashioned!" Gioura interrupted. "Das and I have had our own V.I for years. I don't know anyone at our school that doesn't have one – except perhaps the _babies_. Does that mean you're not allowed on the extranet either?"

Another shake of her head. It was accompanied by a peel of laughter from the sisters. Liara wondered if it was time for their midday meal even though she knew it to be at least an hour away. Liara hopped up onto a bench of her own and then onto the rim of a raised garden. Given that her companions were so boring, she was determined to make her own fun. She began balancing across, doing her best to ignore the scorn of the other two. At one stage she thought she saw Dasia cast an envious glance her way, but it disappeared quickly.

"Perhaps your mother doesn't want you learning certain things," the oldest Syros sister suggested, casting a haughty glare at Liara. "Like what a pureblood is for instance."

Liara did not even pause in her balancing game. The term meant nothing to her so why should she care? Even when Dasia uttered a shocked gasp, Liara continued placing one foot carefully after the other. It was all very exciting. The innocent uylia flowers on one side became tiny, writhing Thresher Maws, while the short drop on the other was a bottomless chasm. One foot wrong on either side would mean certain death.

"Gi, you shouldn't use that word!" Dasia protested. "You're not even supposed to know what it means. If mother caught you using it-"

"Why shouldn't I use it? She is one," Gioura announced, pointing accusingly toward Liara.

Liara was drawn out of her game when she heard the comment. With her concentration broken, she waivered for a few seconds and them decided that jumping off the garden would be preferable to falling into the uylia bed and risking a dirty dress.

"What am I?" Liara asked tentatively. She wished that she could sound just a little braver, but Gioura was much taller than she. Perhaps she could even use biotics properly? Liara suddenly wished she hadn't asked.

"Don't tell her!" Obviously her sister did not share her sister's flippant disregard for the forbidden word.

A grin creased Gioura's face. It reminded Liara of the Krogan she had seen once when her mother took her on a shopping trip into Armali proper. She took several steps backward as the older girl advanced on her. Eventually the backs of her legs were pressed up against the stone bench.

"You're a pureblood," Gioura whispered.

Although Liara did not know what the word meant, she understood from the way it was said that it was bad in some way. She shook her head stubbornly. "No, I'm not."

"Yes you are. I overheard my mother saying that you have two asari parents. That makes you a dirty, disgusting pure blood."

Stunned, Liara could not think of a reply. It was the first reference she had heard to her father. She had long since stopped trying to ask her mother. More than any other subject, that particular one earned the full force of Benezia's wrath. A part of her desperately wanted to ask the older asari if her mother had mentioned who it was, but at the same time she was terrified.

Gioura continued, "Not to mention the fact that you'll probably end up becoming an Ardat-Yakshi."

While Liara had never heard the term 'pureblood,' she knew exactly what an Ardat-Yakshi was. They were the creatures that inhabited the nightmares of asari children and the forbidden stories that Shiala sometimes read to her. Ardat-Yakshi were monsters. Without fully realising what she was doing, Liara flared her biotics. Given her age, her corona fluctuated wildly. She could not have managed to do more than give Gioura a weak shove, but the effect was there. Suddenly Dasia was pushing her way in between them. Strangely enough, her anger was not focused at Liara, but rather at her sister.

"Leave her alone, Gi. You're being cruel!"

"Get out of the way. I'm going to teach the little pureblood a lesson."

The subsequent events took place in an almost blinding flash of movement. The flaring of biotics had drawn the attention of both commandos stationed nearby. However by the time they reached the children it was too late, Dasia was lying at the base of a set of stairs, sobbing and clutching at her arm while Liara and Gioura faced off against one another.

"You hurt my sister!" Gioura accused, feigning tears of her own.

Liara's eyes widened. "I did nothing to her! You pushed her down the stairs."

"You lying little pureblood!" The elder girl turned to the commandos and pointed her finger at Liara. "She pushed my sister."

Although she did her best to defend herself, Liara felt tears suddenly prick at her eyes. She could not think quickly enough to stand up to the older girl. As tears started to leak down her cheeks, Liara wished that one of the commandos was Shiala. She would know that there was no way she would have hurt Dasia.

* * *

The cavity beneath her bed had never seemed as inviting as Liara sat waiting for her mother. However she refused to give into her urge to flee, she had nothing to hide other than the guilt of losing her temper and flaring her biotics. She had hurt no one. Least of all Dasia who had actually tried to stand up to her sister on her behalf.

Her rumbling stomach reminded her that the incident had made her miss the midday meal. She heard brisk footsteps in the corridor outside and prayed that it was Shiala or one of the other commandos bringing her something to eat.

Liara was unprepared for the force of nature that was her mother. Benezia swept into the room, seeming to take no steps between appearing at the door and looming over her daughter.

"Did you hurt the Syros girl?" she demanded.

Although Liara never set out to deliberately misbehave (most of the time), she often earned her mother's ire. This time however she knew something was different. She had never heard such a tone of unbridled fury in her mother's voice. It scared her more effectively than anything Gioura had mentioned in the garden. It scared her to the point that she could not prise her mouth open to reply. All she could do was shake her head.

"Tell me the truth, Liara, or by the Goddess I will make you tell me!"

Liara was frightened. Somehow this figure standing in front of her no longer seemed like her mother. She was something else, something altogether horrible. She shook her head again, the movement stopped only when her mother seized her chin in a vice-like grip. When she tried to remain brave, Liara's resolve crumbled and she dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs that shook her small frame.

"Excuse me, Mistress T'Soni?"

With a flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks, Benezia released her hold on her daughter and turned to face her guest - an elegant, sapphire blue-skinned Matron. "Mistress Syros, please forgive me for leaving you unattended."

"My youngest daughter has something she wishes to tell you." The Matron propelled Dasia gently forward.

Liara watched wide-eyed as Dasia stepped into the room. Her injured arm was bound up into a sling and her eyes were red-rimmed. Nevertheless, there was a determined expression on her face as she approached the Matriarch.

"Liara didn't push me down the stairs. It was my sister," Dasia spoke up in a clear, confident voice. "She wanted me to lie for her…but I wouldn't. I like Liara."

Peering around her mother's body, Liara saw Dasia give her a tremulous smile. While she was still too shaken to respond with one of her own, she felt a surge of gratitude flow through her body.

"Thank you for your honesty, young one," Benezia whispered. "Perhaps you would do House T'Soni the honour of sitting next to Liara when we take our meal?"

Dasia bobbed her head. "I would like that, Mistress T'Soni - very much."

As Matron Syros bundled her youngest out of the room, Liara was once again left alone with her mother. In the time that it took for her to speak again, she felt her tears drying on her cheeks. Her stomach rumbled again and she pressed a hand against it to stifle the sound.

When she stared up at her mother, she noticed that something had changed. Rather than she tall and imposing, she appeared very small and frightened – much as Liara herself felt. There was a strange expression on her face, as though she too had been hurt. Hesitantly, Liara approached her. She desperately wanted to ask her mother to explain the term 'pureblood' but she sensed that it was not the right time.

"Mother?" she asked quietly. "I am sorry."

Benezia turned to face her daughter. "Do not apologise when you have nothing to be sorry for, Little Wing. It is I who must ask your forgiveness. I let my memories cloud my judgement…and I am truly sorry."

In the next moment Benezia was on her knees in front of her young daughter, running her hands over the beautiful curves of her cheeks and the gentle sweep of her not yet fully-formed crests. She still had decades to grow into her beauty, and she had absolutely no doubt that it would be a strikingly unique beauty.

Liara shared almost no traits in common with her older sister, and yet Benezia had been so quick to come to the conclusion that they were cut from the same mould due to some failure of her own as a mother. Throughout Liara's childhood she had watched her intently, barely allowing her a moment of freedom lest she develop into the same heartless monster as her sister. Benezia had to continually remind herself that the child in front of her was not Isini. She was gentle, compassionate, and honest.

_Your Father was right, Liara_, Benezia thought as she wiped at the miniscule salt crusts that had formed on Liara's cheeks. _You are going to raise one hell of a storm on your little wings._

"Would you like to sit beside me when we eat?" Benezia asked softly. It wasn't protocol of course, but she found herself caring very little about such things at that moment in time.

"And Dasia on the other side?" Liara asked hopefully.

"Yes, Little Wing." _And her horrible sister at the foot of the table where you won't even be able to see her._


	3. Size Seven Boots

**Size Seven Boots**

**Sirona**

**2171**

Ashley Williams sighed as she plucked at the hole that had been forming on the toe of her left boot for some time. It was now large enough that she could see most of her sock-covered big toe beneath. Although she knew that worrying at it with her fingers wasn't going to make it any smaller, her repressed rebellious side hinted that she might be able to make it large enough to warrant a new pair of boots. Unfortunately her dominant sensible nature easily won out, reminding her that it was far more likely that the left boot would end up with a patch over the toe, probably identical to the one on the right boot. That the hole had probably been caused by the fact that the boots were too small didn't matter. After strapping the footwear up, she rose to standing. Kicking out angrily at the bench accomplished little, but the resulting impact and dull thud improved her mood slightly. Ash then gathered up her bag and swung it over her shoulder. Although it was weighed down with the accumulation of crap that a thirteen year old needed just to get through one day of school, her tall, athletic frame managed it easily.

She'd barely made it a few steps when a miniature whirlwind flew into the locker room and almost collided with her amidst a flurry of flailing arms and blonde hair. Acting instinctively, Ash placed a calming hand on the other girl's shoulder and put a gentle halt to her excited movements.

"Izzy, what the hell? Are you deliberately trying to keep me out of Saturday's line-up?" Ash asked as her best friend drew in several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. "You know you're already starting right?" It was a moot point. There were seven kids on the team and seven positions on the field.

With a pair of green eyes shining with excitement, Izzy shook her head. "Sorry, Ash. _He_ asked me if I thought you would mind if he walked you home."

The words tumbled out in such a rush that they seemed to merge together. It was all Ash could do to pick out a few key points in an effort to understand what the blonde was trying to say. Even then it made absolutely no sense. "Who is _he_?"

Izzy's eyes boggled as though she thought Ash had suddenly lost her mind. "Kevin!" she said as though it was completely obvious. "Kevin wants to walk you home, dumb ass! I told him you'd say yes. You will say yes won't you?"

Kevin? It was slightly ridiculous for Ash to have to pause and think for any length of time as she already knew exactly who Izzy was talking about. There were only eight guys in her class after all. Kevin Grover – she could picture him easily with his sandy hair, and arrogant flashing eyes. He was undisputedly the big fish in a very small pond. An exasperated snort escaped Ash's nose and she brushed past her friend in an effort to escape the locker room.

"Ash!" Izzy squeaked as she followed. "I've already told him that you'd say yes. Don't make me look like an idiot!"

"You made yourself look like an idiot," Ash replied bluntly over her shoulder. "I don't need anyone to walk me home. I already have company unless you've forgotten. You know, those same three kids that I walk home every day after school?"

"Can't Abby walk the other two home?" Izzy suggested helpfully. "Isn't she like eleven now?"

"Ten, Izzy. She's ten," Ash muttered as she made her way outside.

She felt like rolling her eyes when she saw Kevin waiting to one side of the yard with his small gang of friends. He looked up when he saw her coming and flashed a smile of expectation. Without a second glance, Ash ignored him and headed instead to where a group of smaller children were waiting under the watchful gaze of a teacher. Three dark-haired girls detached themselves as soon as they saw her approach and converged on her amidst excited chatter. Their voices overlapped so she could not make out what any one of them was trying to tell her.

"Slow down, little monsters," Ash greeted her sisters with a tolerant grin. "You can tell me about your day one at a time."

"As long as I get to go first!"

"First, Lynn, you're going to pick up those shoes you've forgotten." Ash nodded toward a pair of sneakers lying forlornly on the grass.

Eventually, after adding the weight of a six-year old to that of her bag, Ashley managed to make it out of the school yard. She hoisted Sarah into a better position on her back as she let Abby and Lynn lead the way. Both were still bickering over who would get to speak first. The only one who seemed to regret that Kevin Grover was not walking her home was Izzy. Her best friend trudged along beside her, casting the occasional glance behind them to where Kevin and his friends were walking.

"I don't know why you're so upset," Ash turned to speak to Izzy eventually. Abby and Lynn had forgotten that they were supposed to be telling her about their day and had engaged in a heated debate as to whose turn it was to wash the dishes that evening. "We're all walking in the same direction anyway. Technically, he_ is_ walking home with me."

The sigh that Izzy uttered was so loud it seemed to be born of a deep-seated suffering. "Ashley Williams, you are so incredibly obtuse."

Ash had absolutely no idea what the word 'obtuse' meant, but from the tone of Izzy's voice she knew that it was something disparaging. "I am not, you take that back."

"You are too. He wanted to walk with you…_alone_."

"Why?" Ash asked with a frown. Her train of thought was interrupted when Abby and Lynn suddenly decided that they wanted to race. "Hey, monsters, not too far ahead!"

Although Lynn was a year and a half younger than Abby, she was decidedly more athletic than her older sister. She easily passed Abby on her short legs, laughing as she streaked ahead, her backpack bouncing on her back with several items threatening to spill out as she'd left the zip open.

"Can we run too?" Sarah asked hopefully, her voice still quiet even though her mouth was right next to Ash's ear.

Ordinarily Ash would have readily agreed, but she was already exhausted from practice and her mind was still trying to process the whole Kevin issue. "Sorry, sister-pops, I'm kinda tired. How about I set you down and you show those two how fast you can run?"

"I can't run that fast," Sarah protested as Ash lowered her down onto her own feet.

"Not yet, but you might as well get in some practice. When you're older, you'll probably be able to beat me." Ashley retained her hold on Sarah's small bag. She swung it over her shoulder as her youngest sister grinned at the encouragement. With all three of her sisters happily entertaining themselves, Ash turned her attention back to Izzy. "Why would Kevin want to walk with me alone? That's ridiculous. What would we even talk about?"

"He doesn't want to _talk_." Izzy gave her a pointed, knowing expression. Ensuring that the younger Williams sisters weren't paying them any attention, she continued. "Marek told me that he wanted to kiss you."

"That's gross, Izzy. Why the hell would I want to kiss him?" Even as the words left Ash's lips, she felt her stomach respond with an odd little jolt that was half fear and half anticipation. This time she was the one that turned and glanced over her shoulder. Although the look was fleeting, she saw Kevin staring at her. As soon as he flashed her a grin, she jerked her gaze back to the path ahead. Her cheeks burned in an entirely unfamiliar sensation.

"Ah, because every girl in our year wants to kiss him?" Izzy replied insistently. "Well, except Kate because she's gay…and me because I've already got a boyfriend, but anyway…he chose you!"

"Stupid him," Ash replied with a snort. "You're ten times prettier than I am." Her stomach suddenly felt hollow. Every other girl in the glass was prettier than her. It was probably all some cruel joke to get back at her because she'd beat him in that race last week. "Anyway…maybe I'd rather kiss Kate?" she fired back in a defiant voice.

Izzy snorted. "Don't pretend you're gay, Ash. I know you'd never kiss a girl. Stop avoiding the topic! Marek told me Kevin really likes you. Not just likes…likes likes! C'mon, Ash, you're tall, you've got gorgeous hair…and you actually are really pretty – when you're not all sweaty and wearing gym clothes."

"Thanks ever so much," Ash replied, hardly convinced.

Although her mind was working overtime, she still kept a watchful eye on her three sisters. Thankfully they seemed to be behaving themselves for the time being. Ash had never devoted a great deal of headspace to the thought of kissing someone - even after Izzy had spent a month harping on about how 'glorious' her first kiss with Marek had been. However now she speculated that her exaggerated indifference had been plain jealousy that Izzy had beat her to the milestone. She risked another look back, longer this time. Kevin Grover was undoubtedly good-looking, and she'd only managed to beat him by a second in their last race. If she had to pick any of the pimply-faced guys in her class, she supposed that she could do a lot worse than Kevin.

"Tell him yes," Ash said when she turned back to Izzy. "I'll drop the monsters off at home and say I'm going back out to play ball for half an hour."

Her heart was hammering in her chest even though it was hardly a lie. In between chores, she spent as much time as possible in the grassy lot near her house. While she remained stoic on the outside, Izzy uttered a strange little squeal of delight before discreetly dropping back so the boys could catch up with her. Even as Ash saw her house in the distance, she felt oddly removed from the present. She walked the same route every week day, but it felt as though everything was about to change. It took her almost a minute to realise that there was a grin stuck to her face. She didn't need to look in the mirror to know that it was a ridiculously goofy grin.

_Okay, Ash, it's just a stupid kiss_, she tried to tell herself._ It's probably not even as good as Izzy says it is. Just get it over with so you can say you've done it and your so-called friends can stop bugging you - simple as that_.

Up ahead, something was happening. Ash heard a sudden cry from Abby and hastened her walk, thinking that one of the girls had hurt themselves. However she soon realised why her sisters were so excited. She saw the truck parked outside their house which meant only one thing. Their Dad was home. With a quick wave over her shoulder in the direction of her friends, Ash broke into a run that was just as carefree as that of her sisters. Her lanky legs soon caught up to Sarah and she paused to swoop the smaller girl up and over her shoulder before she was left behind altogether.

"He's home early!" Lynn pointed out, slightly out of breath.

Although nothing could dampen Ash's excitement, she did feel a slight trace of worry at the back of her mind. She suppressed it quickly, instead fixing a broad smile onto her face as she tousled Lynn's hair. "Mom probably called him because you didn't do your homework yesterday."

"She wouldn't!" Lynn gasped.

"Just teasing," Ash reassured her.

All four of them squeezed through the front gate amidst a hail of laughter. Breathlessly, they thudded into the atrium and dumped their bags carelessly. It was only after she set Sarah down that Ash's earlier misgivings began to reappear. There were already two soldiers sitting in their living room, but neither one was her Dad. Their Mom's close friend and neighbour, Mrs Dyer, was there too. Ash immediately noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed as though she had been crying. Although neither Abby nor Lynn were naturally shy, all three younger girls suddenly stopped laughing and instinctively clustered close to her.

"Hey, girls," Mrs Dyer approached them with a determined smile fixed on her face. "You must be hungry after school. Why don't you come into the kitchen and I'll fix you something to eat?"

"Where's our Dad?" Lynn demanded, ignoring the offer.

"Lynn!" Ashley could have cuffed her sister over the head for her poor manners. She met the woman's gaze and managed a respectful nod. "Yes please," she replied on their behalf.

However as their neighbour ushered the three smaller girls through into the kitchen, Ashley remained behind. She realised she was still clutching her bag and let it fall to the floor. Both of the soldiers she recognised as being from her Dad's unit – one was a close friend she had met before, Serviceman Steve Moorhouse, and the other was a Lieutenant that Ashley did not know personally.

"Is my Dad okay?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Although she knew her Dad's unit was not currently on active duty in a hot zone, there were nevertheless any number of accidents that could happen to a soldier regardless of their assignment.

"Your Dad's fine, Miss Williams," Steve said with a nod. "I'm pretty sure he'd like to see you though…before your sisters. He's upstairs."

Miss Williams? Ashley frowned. It was oddly formal and unlike Steve. He usually called her 'Private' as her wish to join up as soon as she finished school was all she ever talked about. "Yes, sir." Her own response sounded as though someone else was speaking.

Ash didn't know what to feel as she ascended the stairs. On one hand she was relieved that her Dad was okay, but she had a keen sense, and she knew that something was wrong. She found her Dad perched on the edge of her parent's bed with a pallor to his skin that caused her to stop immediately in her tracks. Spencer Williams was a tall, broad-shouldered man, but for some reason he seemed impossibly small with his head ducked down and his shoulders hunched. As soon as she cleared her throat, he jerked his head up as though she had caught him unawares. Ash's lips parted in shock when she saw actual tears rolling down her father's cheeks. She had never seen him cry for any reason.

"Hey, marine. Come here would ya?" He patted the spot beside him. "How was school?"

_I managed a B+ on a math test. Mom was so proud I might as well have got an A. I made the track team for the transcontinental champs next month – youngest kid from my school…ever_, Ash thought as she lowered herself down. _And Kevin Grover wants to kiss me_. Somehow all of it seemed insignificant. "It's fine," was all she eventually replied. "How come you're home early?"

Her Dad swivelled slightly so that he could look at her face to face. Even though she suddenly felt conspicuous, Ash forced herself to hold his gaze. Even though he had not said a word, just the presence of tears in his eyes was enough to cause a fierce burn within her own. Somehow all those times when her Dad had reminded her that a Williams didn't cry seemed not to matter – not when he was the one who was crying.

"Ashley…there was-" He loud sob caught in his throat which he stifled by pressing his fist to his lips.

Several minutes passed. Ashley was dimly aware that Kevin Grover was waiting for her, something about a kiss that may or may not happen. It was supposed to be a big deal in the life of a teenager, but Ash already knew that what her Dad was trying to tell her outweighed the B+ on her math test, the track team and the damn kiss.

"Ellie was…your Mom was in an accident earlier today – at work."

Ash stared in disbelief. "She's going to be okay though, right?"

Another deep breath, this time accompanied by a slight shake of his head. "No, she isn't. She…um, she…"

_She isn't okay_. What did it mean to be not okay? Was she hurt badly? The tears that had been welling in her eyes since she had sat down finally started to fall. "Mom died," Ash stated in a matter-of-fact voice. The announcement sounded cold and clinical when all she really wanted to do was scream it out at the top of voice. However she was all too aware of the fact that her sisters were downstairs. The girls would hear the scream and they'd be justifiably terrified. Instead she fought to keep it inside.

"Yeah, she did," Spencer Williams agreed in a hollow voice. When he took one of her hands in his own, she could feel the reassuring coarseness of his calloused palms. The other he brought up to brush some of the tears from her cheeks. "Ellie's dead." He said it as though he needed to remind himself of the fact.

"I-I remember…what you told me," Ash whispered in between sniffs. "A Williams doesn't cry."

"Hey…c'mere," Spencer whispered fiercely as he threw both arms around her slight body and crushed her gently against his chest. Ashley's steadfast resolve crumpled almost instantly as she dissolved into sobs. "Why don't you and I just cry for a bit? I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Ashley knew in that moment that she had been right to think that everything else was insignificant. Kevin Grover could wait in the empty lot all evening for a kiss that was never going to happen.

"Can I count on you for back up when I tell your sisters?" he asked her as the tears subsided.

She almost fell to pieces again when she realised that the younger girls still needed to be told. However Ash set her lips into a thin line as she drew back and met her Dad's gaze. "Yes sir, you can," she replied with a determined nod. "I'm ready when you are."

"Thanks." He held her at arm's length, keeping her sitting even as she tried to stand. "I'm not ready…not yet." A small sigh escaped his lips. "I don't think I'll ever be ready. Can you sit with your old Dad for a bit longer?"

"As long as you need, Dad." Even as Ashley replied she dried the last of her tears from her cheeks. Although every breath felt forced and her gut was twisted into painful knots, she knew she was not going to start crying again. She had three kids who were about to be told that their mother was dead waiting for her downstairs. Regardless of her own pain, she was determined not to cry in front of them.

Ashley sat in silence next to her Dad. Eventually she fixed her gaze on the small white nub of her toe protruding from her boot. She wriggled it for a few moments before she realised that she was probably making the hole bigger still.

"We'll get you a new pair of boots."

She hadn't even realised that her Dad had noticed the hole. An awful feeling of guilt swelled up inside her when she realised that she'd deliberately made it worse in an effort to get a new pair. _I don't want new boots_, she thought. _I want my Mom back_. Instead of giving voice to the thought, she squared her shoulders and nodded. "Sure," she replied in a noncommittal voice. The last thing she wanted her Dad to be worrying about was her damn boots but she was desperate for some form of conversation that wasn't about her Mom. "Size seven."

"Size seven? Shit, when did your feet get so damn big, marine?"

_Shit. _It was one simple expletive, but in that moment Ash knew that everything had changed. She was no longer a thirteen year old kid whose only worries were math tests and that elusive first kiss. In the space of minutes, she felt as though she had aged several years. Perhaps she had.

"I come from good stock, Dad. I'm a Williams."


End file.
